April 22, 2008
Disclaimer: See chapter one. Not mine, no money.
Author's Notes: I apologize for the very long wait between updates. Real Life decided to beat me with bricks. I've had to deal with the death of a friend who was only seventeen and a friend's dad within three days of each other. Besides that, school decided to beat me with bricks too, and I've been chillaxing with my good friend procrastination. Thank you to my beta Lyndsie Fenele. Any mistakes are from my own fiddling after I got the chapter back. Here it is though, finally. Read and enjoy.

Chapter Four: Living

Once Hermione had calmed down enough to really let the news sink in, Madam Pomfrey insisted that she do an exam on her right then.

"Three months without seeing a Healer! I'm surprised nothing has happened to you yet!"

Hermione lay ashamed as the medi-witch checked her stomach—Hermione refused to think of it as a baby—and turned her head away from Ginny's probing eyes. She couldn't possibly meet them and their pity. The Weasley temper was much preferable to any form of pity.

Hermione pitied herself enough as it was. She didn't listen to Madam Pomfrey's commentary about what she was doing or how Hermione or the baby fared. She didn't care. She wished she'd never found out she was pregnant. As she had told Ginny earlier, it would hurt less in the present to be so oblivious. Later—well, she could always deal with later when it arrived.

Finally Madam Pomfrey pulled Hermione's robes back down to cover her stomach, and Hermione, with no awareness of what had been done to her, sat up slowly. Already she felt like she'd aged thirty years. She could never just be an eighteen-year-old girl again. She could never worry over trivial thinks like school and exams. Not when she had a whole other life to care for. At eighteen! She was pregnant! And with Draco Malfoy's baby, of all people!

Her plan had been to wait a few years, of course. But she would never have those few years now. In less than six months she would have a baby to care for.

And most horrible of all, she would probably be alone in that regard.

"Come on, Hermione," Hermione faintly heard Ginny say. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. I'll make sure she takes her potions. You won't see us again until her appointment."

"I should hope not! But if anything feels wrong, Miss Granger, please don't hesitate to see me."

"Feels wrong?" she repeated dazedly, trying to turn and ask Madam Pomfrey what she meant, because of course something was wrong: she was only eighteen and she was having a baby. Not just that, but the father probably wouldn't want her anymore when he found out.

"Don't worry about it," Ginny said. "Let's get you back to your rooms. Draco should be back soon, it's nearly dinner time."

Dear God. Hermione couldn't face him now. Not knowing what she now knew. Even if he couldn't tell physically that she was pregnant, she was sure he would be able to read it on her face. How could she act normal around him? She didn't think she could, and then he'd find out.

"Hermione."

And then he'd leave her.

"Hermione, I don't know the password."

"Stupid Lion." Draco had come up with it. Hermione had never felt more stupid than she did right now. All that intellect and she'd failed at something so simple.

"Sometimes it isn't simple," Ginny sighed. Hermione stared at her. "You're talking out loud." The older girl blinked. She hadn't realized. Ginny seemed concerned, but what did concern matter? It couldn't change time or take it all away.

"How can it not be simple?" Hermione finally said, her voice hard. "A week later I was brewing a potion. A condom at least…!"

Ginny grabbed her hand and placed it on the slab of wood that acted as the entrance to the Head Girl's room. She didn't reply, though Hermione waited for her to. The door opened at the occupant's touch and Ginny pulled Hermione over to the bed.

"How could you possibly have thought his would happen? You couldn't know, and neither of you were thinking. That's all there is to it."

Angry tears brightened Hermione's eyes as she hissed, "You think I deserve this?"

"No, Hermione! Can't you see that there might be a reason for it?"

"You're right! It's a sign! I've been waiting for something to happen, to show me I was wrong… and here it is," Hermione murmured dejectedly.

"Maybe this is exactly the incentive Malfoy needs to break off his engagement with Parkinson!" Ginny exclaimed pleadingly. She didn't smile because there still wasn't anything to smile about.

"No. this is exactly the incentive Draco needs to break off his relationship with me."

Ginny couldn't believe what Hermione was saying. When had she become so cynical? How could someone so bright—in two senses of the word—be so dim?

Hermione stretched out onto the bed, lying on her stomach. Her back rose and fell unevenly, and Ginny realized with a shock that she was crying. Until this point, Hermione had been in shock herself. She needed to face reality, no matter how much it hurt or how much she wished for the opposite.

Ginny placed the potions Madam Pomfrey had handed her on Hermione's bedside table and settled next to her friend until they were lying side by side. She rubbed Hermione's back soothingly as the older girl sobbed louder. Hearing her suffer like this made tears form in her own brown eyes, and once the moisture became too much for her to bear, they fell down her face and into Hermione's hair.

"I'm so sorry."

Hermione moaned something unintelligible, but Ginny understood her perfectly.

Another hour had passed and, in that time, the girls hadn't moved much at all. Hermione had made sure that the door leading to the bathroom Hermione and Draco shared was ajar so that Draco could let himself in when he got back from St. Mungo's.

Now she and Ginny lay together in Hermione's bed, under the scarlet duvet. As the older girl hugged the younger, Ginny stroked her wild hair. Neither had spoken for over half an hour and Hermione preferred it that way.

The minutes passed and Hermione thought her heart's beats grew louder with each second lost to her. She tried to think of what to say to Draco to sound normal but she couldn't even remember normal anymore. She realized that the fears that had dominated her life had made her miss the time that passed. She had been so consumed in her worry that she didn't even realize that she had missed three menstruation cycles. What had she done with that time?

"Ginny?" Hermione uttered, breaking the tense silence.

"Hm?"

"I have been out of it, haven't I?" she asked worriedly.

For one extended second, Ginny didn't speak. "Yes, you have. It's been so hard to talk to you because most of the time you aren't even listening."

Hermione sighed.

"I'm sorry. It's just that—"

"No, I understand."

Hermione wished she could explain, because, really, Ginny only thought she understood. Hermione wondered if she assumed that she was so distracted because of some internal mechanism that had to do with the pregnancy. And of course that wasn't it. Her worries, as always, had consumed her more than her own health.

"And Ginny?"

"Mm-hm?"

"Have you and Harry ever…"

Ginny's response was flustered and immediate. "No, of course not." But Hermione didn't say anything so she went on awkwardly. "I've…you know—wanted to, but Harry's such a gentleman. He wouldn't ask that of me and I can't ask that of him."

Had Ginny reconsidered sleeping with Harry now? Now that she had witnessed the consequences of such risqué actions first hand? Did she think Draco wasn't a gentleman because he hadn't refused her? Did she think any less of Hermione herself?

Just then, Hermione heard the sound of the portrait hole downstairs being closed with a slam.

Draco was home.

She glanced up at Ginny, whose eyes were watching her.

"Do you want me to leave?" Ginny asked.

"Not yet," Hermione whispered back. "Just… don't say anything?" she enquired, though the red-haired girl looked about to protest. "Please? Not yet."

"Fine," Ginny conceded even though Hermione could tell it was against her better judgment.

When someone knocked on her bathroom door, Hermione disentangled herself from her friend and both girls sat up.

"Hermione?"

She saw him enter the room and her world brightened considerably. His platinum hair glittered like her sun; his icy, pale eyes were her sky. She wasn't aware that she had uttered his name in what sounded like despair, or that she had left the bed to reach him, but as soon as her arms were around him and her face was buried in his shoulder, she felt like everything was normal and her world had never shattered. He was her world and nothing would change that: not if he left her and married Parkinson, not if she perished from the Earth.

"What's wrong? What happened to her? I thought I told you to take care of her!" Draco roared at Ginny in alarm. Hermione answered before she could even open her mouth.

"Nothing happened! I just didn't realize I would miss you so much!" It was only half true: something most certainly had happened, of course, but for the other she was totally truthful. She had missed him terribly, especially after visiting Madam Pomfrey.

And thinking of Madam Pomfrey, Hermione jumped away from Draco just as he started to rub circles on her back, as if he would be able to feel the baby by holding her so closely.

"I'm sorry," she said, staring at the floor. "I didn't mean to overreact."

"It's fine," Draco said smoothly. He would have teased her with something like, "If that's the way you overreact, you may do it whenever you want," but now that he knew how much he had changed over the months, he was more aware of where he and Hermione were and who was around them.

"I'm going to go, Hermione," Ginny said, climbing out of the bed. Hermione wasn't sure she wanted the other girl to leave just yet, but Ginny had already rushed out the door.

Damn. Now what was she going to do?

Hermione knew that Draco was watching her stare at the door; she drummed her fingertips together in agitation. Finally the silence became too much for her overwrought nerves and she spoke.

"How is your mother?"

Draco also shook himself out of the stupor of his worried thoughts. "She's alive. A bit thinner than I would hope for, but fine nonetheless." His voice had a slightly relieved edge that gladdened Hermione a bit.

But thoughts of Draco's mother always led the tricky cycle back to thoughts of Lucius Malfoy.

"Does she remember who attacked her?" she asked, fervently hoping for a positive answer, but dreading that answer all the same.

"No. But she said it wasn't my father," Draco replied, looking slightly animated at the memory.

That piece of news should have made her happy. Hermione couldn't help but be cynical, though.

"If she doesn't remember, how could she be certain it wasn't your father?"

"Because my father is dead, Hermione," Draco snapped. Stricken, Hermione turned away from Draco's fierce eyes—eyes she hadn't been on the receiving end of in a long time—and tried to blink away stupid tears.

She felt Draco's hands slide down her arms and then wrap around her waist, hugging her from behind. Despite her hurt, she couldn't help but revel in his closeness, even though he was so close to touching—and thus, discovering—her secret.

"I'm… sorry," he murmured with slight difficulty. She noticed how once again he had trouble apologizing. Just like the old Draco Malfoy. "My visit was trying." He sighed against her neck.

"I take it you told her about me?" she uttered quietly, swallowing thickly, and closing her eyes to the feel of his breath on her skin.

"Yes."

"And she was… displeased."

"To say the least."

"I would understand if—now that your mum is awake—if you wanted to end things with me," she said so quietly, so dejectedly, that Draco thought he must have heard wrong.

"I—what?"

"I know she would never approve and… she expects you to marry Parkinson…"

Draco spun Hermione around to face him, his expression livid, surprising her with his anger. "You're wrong. My mum will come around eventually, and if she never does, I don't care. And as for Pansy, I won't—wait. How do you know about that?"

Hermione gaped at him for a long time. She'd been careless with her words and now he knew that she was aware of his engagement. Because he'd never told her.

"Hermione."

"I—I overheard you. Telling Zabini. I didn't mean to—" Draco turned away form her, giving the wall the ugliest look of disgust. Hermione did not have the courage to make him look at her again. "But I was in the corridor and I heard voices, so I hid."

"Because that's the natural reaction. You hear voices so you hide."

"No! Because—because it was you! That weekend we'd told each other our secrets and then I made a fool of myself in front of you that night… singing and whatnot. I—I was confused. About you and how you made me feel. Because I liked what I felt when I was around you, but, even though we'd made that truce, I wasn't supposed to like you doing that.

"At any rate, I'm sorry for eavesdropping, but you should have told me before we began this—this relationship!"

Draco turned so fast that Hermione nearly tripped over her own feet backing away. He towered over her, exceptionally angry, frightening her in a way that he hadn't in months.

"Why? So you would think I was screwing with you? Hermione Granger, someone to play with, then break when I married Pansy Parkinson? No. I thought to keep that to myself, so that maybe I could forget about it. But you, if you knew, you would never be able to forget it, because you would always wonder if I was sincere. If it wasn't all just a joke."

"But I have known! For months! Before you ever asked me to go to St. Mungo's with you, and I'm still here, aren't I?"

Draco didn't step away, but his face softened considerably.

"That you are. Thank Merlin for it, though I may never understand why you stayed."

"Because," she replied with uncertainty. "You were already starting to make me feel like I never had before. I didn't understand it yet, but I had to know why you affected me like you did so soon."

Draco reached for her and she willingly stepped into his embrace. They stood like that for moments that seemed like lifetimes, neither one eager to part. Hermione pulled away first and even then she grabbed his hands in compensation.

"Come to bed," she murmured. He did not object. They climbed into Hermione's bed, pulling each other's school robes off as they moved.

Hermione glanced down at herself when she thought Draco wasn't looking. Her stomach did look different, not round, not obvious. Slightly pudgy, maybe, but no, not too obvious. She swallowed the bile that rose to her throat and forcefully blinked more tears away. She and Draco lay together under the scarlet duvet, Draco's arm around Hermione's waist, her finger writing meaningless words on his pale skin.

When Draco sighed in contentment, she looked up into his face and found him staring at her. She buried her face into the smooth planes of his chest, trying to make her haunting thoughts go away.

Tomorrow she would have to visit Professor Dumbledore. Madam Pomfrey may have Healer-patient confidentiality, but this was definitely something the Headmaster needed to know. Especially from his Head Girl's own mouth.

And it occurred to her that she might want to visit Narcissa Malfoy sometime. Alone. It seemed right to tell his mother; it was indirectly her fault this had happened. Not that Hermione wanted to blame her. She knew exactly where the blame lay for the pregnancy: within herself. She couldn't explain it, but since Narcissa was the only one Draco had left to care for him, it seemed important that she knew too.

Because if Hermione ever became the one to break it off with Draco, someone he would actually speak to afterwards should be available to tell him he had a child.

The twisted logic made sense in her distressed mind, but thinking of confessions and break ups made her heart pound uncomfortably. Draco sensed her unease.

"Hermione?"

"I need you so much," she whispered. He stared at her for one hard moment, his eyebrows knit together as he tried to discover the reason for her melancholy mood. He hugged her tighter to his chest and kissed her slowly but thoroughly.

"I need you too," he replied in a rough voice.

As he continued to kiss her again—probably hoping to make her forget any troubling thoughts—Hermione decided that his need for her could never compare to her need for him at that moment. And, she concluded, it would only get worse.

Professor Dumbledore eyed Hermione curiously over his desk as she fidgeted under his smile. As soon as dawn had broken, Hermione had climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb Draco as she did so, downed one of her potions, and headed out of the portrait hole to look for the Headmaster's office. Once she'd found the stone gargoyle that hid the entrance, she'd remembered that she didn't know the password and panicked at the thought of putting off her chat until later.

But just then, the gargoyle had jumped aside to reveal Professor Dumbledore himself, who looked as surprised to see Hermione as she did to see him.

"You're up early on a Saturday morning, Miss Granger." And sensing her urgency, he'd invited her up to his office and turned right back around.

Now he waited silently and Hermione didn't know how to begin. His kind smile made her feel like she had betrayed him. She felt disgustingly dirty for fouling the prestigious school with her moral filth. He didn't push her to begin but waited patiently.

"Professor, you know that Draco Malfoy and I are…close, I presume?" she finally said uncomfortably.

He smiled fondly, looking a bit wistful and answered, "Indeed. I do."

Hermione scowled to herself. How could he not know? If there was anyone to blame for this situation it would be Dumbledore and not Narcissa Malfoy, she realized. It had been he who preached inter-house unity and changed all the rules, making Hermione and Draco, as Head Girl and Boy, share a common room, their dormitories not really connected to any house. What did Dumbledore think would happen? He wanted them to be friends—and they had become friends—but really! They were only a couple of hormonal teenagers given living quarters independent of any chaperone… What did the Headmaster really think would happen?

"I feel like I've betrayed you, Headmaster," Hermione whispered, her face crumpling. Dumbledore's smile faded and he immediately became more serious.

"You, Miss Granger?"

"Draco and I…we've done something."

"You make it seem like you've committed a murder!" he exclaimed jokingly.

Hermione winced. She couldn't think about the implications of that now.

"Sir, yesterday I found out that I was pregnant." Her face flushed the color of the phoenix on the perch by the door behind her. So ashamed of what she'd confessed to, Hermione refused to meet Dumbledore's eyes. She did not want to see his anger. She couldn't live through his disappointment.

But he didn't say anything for several moments.

"Does Mr. Malfoy know you carry his child?"

Hermione licked her lips and stared at a stone on the wall to her left. She tried to compose herself enough to speak, afraid that if she attempted speech she would break down.

"No, sir."

"And do you plan to keep it?"

She risked a quick glance at his eyes and found no trace of disgust or betrayal. His face was somber and old beyond imagining. She always forgot exactly how old he really was. Hermione thought about his question as she stared at her stone again. Did she want to keep the baby? She mentally shuddered just thinking the word.

Only one thing was certain. At eighteen years old, she had never planned to have a baby. Never wanted one at this age. This decision would change her life, definitely, but could it possibly ruin it? A baby could cause Draco to run straight to Pansy's pug arms.

Even if she lost Draco by the end of this ordeal, wouldn't she want a piece of him to keep for herself? But wouldn't it hurt to look into the face of a child that looked like its father? Would the hurt be worth it?

"It's an enormous decision, Miss Granger. You do not need to know your mind completely at this time."

Meeting his honest, concerned eyes was difficult, but Hermione managed to keep eye contact.

"I think I've always known the answer, Professor."

He nodded but did not ask her what she chose.

"A child can be quite a redeeming thing, you know," he said sagely.

She smiled tightly. She didn't have a clue what he meant, or how that could be so.

"Why did you come here this morning?" Dumbledore asked, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers.

"I felt obligated to tell you. This is your school, sir, and I didn't want to keep a secret this colossal from you." Hermione lowered her eyes and continued quietly, reluctantly, "I've read in Hogwarts: A History about girls kicked out of Hogwarts for becoming pregnant, girls who lost their Prefect status…or Head Girl badge."

"I see." She didn't know if that was a good "I see" or a bad one. "You feared expulsion or loss of titles."

Hermione didn't bother to nod.

"I'm not going to expel you, Miss Granger."

Her eyes snapped up to his face, but his smile was slight and he still maintained his kind expression.

"Why not?" she demanded. "I've broken Hogwarts rules, sir! I won't be punished at all?" Her disbelief was evident.

"I won't expel you, but I do regret that I should take away your Head Girl badge. It wouldn't be…appropriate, under the circumstances."

Nodding mutely, relief coursed through Hermione as she marveled at the thought that she wasn't being kicked out of school. But as her affliction became more obvious, would she not rather be somewhere else? Somewhere that people wouldn't be able to find out? Where Draco could never guess?

"I will have to think of a reason for you to stay in the Head dormitory, I daresay."

"I get to keep my room?" she asked, bewildered, her head spinning so fast she couldn't distinguish up from down.

"I think that would be best. Again, under the circumstances."

Of course. Draco had impregnated one girl sleeping only feet away from him, down the hall. It wouldn't do to tempt fate by placing another girl in the same room, when she, Hermione, would have to go back to the Gryffindor dormitory. That wouldn't do at all.

Hermione tried to force away the tears of relief that stung her eyes. Dumbledore gave her more than she could ever hope to receive in this situation. She had thought she would be homeless—because her parents certainly wouldn't be able to forgive her for this—with no formal Muggle education, nor a complete wizarding one.

"What will I do until graduation, sir? Must everyone look at me…and—know?"

"You wish to conceal the fact that you are pregnant?"

"Yes, sir. If it is possible."

"From everyone who sees you," he mused.

Hermione paused doubtfully. "Well…not everyone. Ginny Weasley knows, and Madam Pomfrey must. And once I tell my parents…" she swallowed thickly at the thought.

"A Fidelius Charm may work. Though that is highly dangerous for both you and your baby should something happen. A Healer wouldn't be able to see—"

"Is it possible, sir? To use the charm to hide a living being inside another one?" It sounded absurd when she said it like that. Like an alien parasite was feeding off of her.

"I'm sure it is possible. To my knowledge, it has never been done before. I don't think it would hurt you to try it." He looked thoughtful for a moment longer and then he smiled at Hermione. "But we still have some time yet before any magical concealment is necessary."

That sounded like Hermione's chance to leave. She was starting to feel antsy talking about the baby this much. She still didn't want to believe this was happening.

"Thank you for everything, Professor. I didn't know what I was going to do," she said as she stood from her chair and stared at her fidgeting fingers.

"Thank you, Miss Granger, for coming to me with the truth. That shows integrity." As if she cared. She was already on a slippery slope to Hell that no amount of integrity could save her from.

But before she could reach the door, Dumbledore called to her again.

"I think it unwise to keep Mr. Malfoy from knowing he is to have a child, and I advise you to tell him as soon as possible."

Hermione's mouth went dry.

"Yes, sir."

"And Miss Granger?"

"Sir?"

"I hear pregnancy should be an exciting time for expecting mothers. Do try to relax and enjoy yourself. It is the least you can do for your well-being."

"Sir? Pardon my impudence, but why would you tell me such a thing? I'm barely of age and still in school. I should have been expelled from Hogwarts at the least." She was bewildered. What she had expected him to do, he hadn't done. She'd proven herself to be an unfit Head Girl and role model and he was still being kind to her. Telling her to enjoy her misbegotten pregnancy, in fact!

"I'm sure you know that I believe in second chances? I also believe that this baby is yours."

Wasn't it enough that she had tried to do the right thing when she found out she was pregnant? What was it that she needed a second chance for?

"My second chance for what? Sir."

"To live. I've watched you, Miss Granger, and if you refuse to live for the sake of your own life, live for your child's."

For a minute Hermione couldn't breathe. This is what she had realized earlier. In the face of her fears, she'd forgotten to live, and everyone had noticed except for her.

"Having a child is not the worse thing that could happen to you," he continued. "I understand you are frightened."

And after a moment's consideration, Hermione knew he was right. Everything else she feared—Lucius Malfoy, losing Draco—was worse than the possibility of raising Draco's child. Why did she have to stop living just because she was afraid? Plenty of people had been afraid when Voldemort was rising to power, and families like the Weasleys had lived on as normally as they could. If they could survive their fear of Voldemort, then she could certainly survive her own fears. Besides, women gave birth to babies every day. Sometimes those women were teenagers too.

So it had to stop now. She would deal with her fears if and when they came true.

"Yes, Professor," she said, and even managed a genuine smile.

Seeing her change in demeanor, Dumbledore clapped his hands together and smiled like he'd just received sweets.

"Well, then! Why don't we walk down to breakfast together? You must be as famished as I am!"

Hermione preceded him out of the door. Thanks to the potion she'd taken earlier, she could now fathom filling her stomach with food before lunch time rolled along.

But later…later, Hermione would need to steal away to the library. Research was in order.

Reviews welcome and appreciated! Chapter five is written but needs to be typed. I post chapters as soon as I receive them from my beta, but even so, quick updates are not guaranteed.